Voldemort's Fate
by Mrs. Vega
Summary: Voldemort was killed in the final battle, right?  Wrong!  His actual fate was much worse!  A series in drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is an idea that my husband and I came up with. It was just something to laugh about, but the evil plot bunny won't leave me alone now.**

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><p>"Well, Tommy Boy, here we are again. Another fight. Another chance for you to lose. I'm really getting tired of this, you know."<p>

"We both know that it is YOU who will lose, Harry Potter."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Just like EVERY other time we've fought, right? Like when I was a baby…or when I was eleven…or twelve…or fourteen… Wait, I won all those times. Huh, I don't seem to lose, Tommy. Or am I misunderstanding what you mean by 'lose'?"

"You DARE to imply you are better than I?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating cold, hard, FACTS. Statistically speaking, I AM better than you, Tom."

Enraged, Voldemort brandishes his wand. He has momentarily forgotten he no longer has his Horcruxes to protect him. He is intent upon causing Harry Potter as much pain as humanly possible. "CRUCIO!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry's spell connects with Voldemort's perfectly, sending both ricocheting away. Expecting this, Harry had cast a second spell, "Incarcerous" silently, immediately following the first. His aim is true, and his spell proves so powerful Voldemort is wrapped up like a mummy from shoulder to heel. He is unable to make the smallest gesture, thereby robbing him of his ability to perform magic.

Harry walks up to Voldemort and looks down at him. "Well, well, Tommy Boy. Looks like I win again. But don't worry, I know how you feel about death, so I have another idea for you." Voldemort watches fearfully as Harry raises his wand. "Stupefy!"


	2. Chapter 2

Voldemort groggily opens his eyes. He recognizes the symptoms of being awoken via "Ennervate" after a long period of stupification. The room is dark. A light suddenly clicks on.

"Tommy Boy. Welcome back to the land of the living. Of course, you weren't really dead, so I'm not sure that applies, but you get the point. Now, as you may or may not recall, I told you I would not kill you. And I'll keep to that, despite the entirety of the British wizarding population clamoring for your death."

Voldemort, unable to see his foe, decides that bravado is the best response. "My faithful followers will obliterate you, Potter, and I shall rise again, greater and more powerful than before!"

"Yeah, yeah, cut the crap, Tommy. We both know it's not going to happen. The only reason you were able to rise this time was that Peter Pettigrew had nowhere else to go. Besides, you haven't heard your punishment."

"You presume to punish me? I suppose you plan to incarcerate me within the walls of Azkaban. I shall escape within the week."

"Well, I could do that. The Dementors aren't very happy with you either, you know. Something about promising them an endless supply of victims and not delivering…" Harry Potter looks thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "Anyway, no, that would be too easy for you."

Harry leans forward on the table, finally allowing Voldemort to see him. "See, here's the thing. I did a LOT of research…" He's cut off by someone clearing her throat. "Alright. Hermione did a lot of research while we were seeking your Horcruxes. She found a little known, and VERY dark, ritual, that we think will be perfect for you."

"Harry Potter and his mudblood friend performing a dark ritual? As if. You wouldn't perform a dark ritual if it would save your soul."

Harry laughs. "Yeah, you'd think that. But truthfully, the ritual is only classified as dark because of what it does. It robs a person of his or her magical abilities. I makes the person a Muggle."


	3. Chapter 3

Still bound by ropes, Voldemort watches, horrified, as the lights are turned on, and he can see a clearly prepared ritual area. Harry Potter joins both the mudblood and the blood traitor within a rune circle. Looking around, Voldemort realizes he is within a second, identical rune circle.

Panic starts to truly set in as the so-called golden trio starts chanting in Latin. He recognizes the words. This ritual will actually work. He will be a Muggle in just minutes. How DARE they steal his power for themselves?

"Potter! Release me at once! I command you!" However, unable to move, he has no way to stop the ritual.

As the chanting continues, the circles begin to glow, first subtly, then substantially. The glow starts at the edge of the circles and slowly moves inward. Voldemort watches the glowing converge upon him with wild eyes. "Potter! Stop! You CANNOT do this!"

The teenagers ignore him and continue chanting, although he can see that Potter is smiling. The glow now surrounds his body, and he can see that the three friends are glowing as well. A moment later, Voldemort feels excruciating pain, as a beam of light emerges from him and connects with the teenagers.

He can actually feel his magical essence leaving him through the light. He knows it is being fed into the three teens in equal parts. They are stealing his magic!

As abruptly as the pain started, it stops, and Voldemort is left panting, trying to catch his breath. It takes him a moment to notice that Potter is standing over him, grinning evilly.

"Well, congratulations, Tommy Boy, you are now a bona-fide Muggle."


	4. Chapter 4

When they are done cleaning up the ritual space, Harry, Ron and Hermione untie Voldemort and handcuff him. It proves to be a simple process. Three against one really is not contest, especially when the three have magic and the one does not.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"I'm getting tired of listening to this git. Can we shut him up for a while?"

"Sure, Ron. Silencio!"

Voldemort continues to rant and rave, but, without a voice, the friends are easily able to ignore him. When they are ready, Hermione holds her wand to Voldemort's throat.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. You have been punished for your crimes against Britain. You shall now be banished to the Muggle world to live out your days without magic. If you cooperate with us, we shall provide you aid to start your life as a Muggle, if you fight us, you shall be left to your own devices. Be warned now that the magical world will be as closed to you as any other Muggle. You shall have NO access to Diagon Alley, St. Mungo's, or the Ministry of Magic. You shall have no recollection of their whereabouts. Do you understand?"

Voldemort eyes the wand derisively, but nods, having heard plenty of rumors of the mudblood's power and knowledge of spells.

"Will you cooperate?"

Thinking this will be the easiest way to get the children to lower their guard, Voldemort nods again. However, he is mistaken. Harry, intimately acquainted with Voldemort's thinking process, holds his wand to Voldemort as well, which convinces Ron to train his wand on the former Dark Lord.

"Follow Hermione, Mr. Riddle." With the girl in front, and the two boys behind, all poking him with their wands, Voldemort has no choice but to go along with them.


	5. Chapter 5

Voldemort blinks groggily as he hears someone calling his name. At first he is positive that he has been stunned and enervated once again, but this is worse than that. He has difficulty opening his eyes, and his face feels as though someone has taken a hammer to it.

Slowly his memories return. The alley, the doctor, the surgery. _This_ was his "reward" for good behavior. Harry Potter took him to have a nose constructed. He finally succeeds in keeping his eyes open, and is met by none other than the bane of his existence.

"There you are, Tommy. We were starting to worry. Anesthesia doesn't always agree with older Muggles. I'm glad you woke up."

Voldemort groans. Will Potter never leave him alone? "Leave me be, Potter."

"Now, now, Tommy, play nice. You have a nose now, so you should be able to blend in to the Muggle world fairly well. Hold still while Hermione finishes healing you."

After a few quietly muttered spells, he feels much better. He reaches up and does, indeed, feel a nose. "Would you care to see your new face, Tom Riddle?" He glares at the mudblood, but he has always been a curious creature. He nods.

She quickly conjures a mirror and hands it to him. He sits up and looks at his face. His eyes are still bright red, and his skin is still pale as death, but he has a nose. His mind wanders back to how he looked as a young man.

"Hey, Hermione, do you think it would be safe to give him hair growth potion, or should we stick with a wig?"

"It should be fine. I'll go by the apothecary, be right back."


	6. Chapter 6

After several hours, Hermione returns bearing a large box.

"About time 'Mione. I was going to go look for you. What took you so long?"

"Well, I wanted to make sure Tom couldn't possibly have an adverse reaction to the potion. We wouldn't want him to die on us, now."

"Good thinking, Hermione. So what's the verdict? And what's with the box?"

"Well, according to my research, either it will work, or it won't, but it won't cause problems. The box is a wig in case the potion doesn't work. It seemed pointless to make two trips."

"Oh, right, cleverest witch of our age, you are. Very well, let's get to this." They approach the bed as Voldemort watches warily. He hasn't had hair in years. Of course, when he had hair, it was very nice, and he was rather proud of it.

"Now, Tom, will you continue to cooperate?" With obvious hatred in his eyes, Voldemort nods. "Just remember, we can use magic, Tom, and you no longer can."

Harry and Hermione both step forward. Harry raises his wand, ready to subdue Voldemort if necessary. Hermione pulls on gloves and quickly applies the potion to Voldemort's head.

As she pulls the gloves back off, she turns to Harry. "If the potion is going to work, we'll know within an hour."

"Alright. Fancy some lunch, Hermione?"

"That sounds lovely, Harry. Should we invite Ronald?"

"I don't know, he's unlikely to agree with what we're doing. Best leave him out of it for now. He still thinks we're looking for information on your parents, after all."

Hermione sighs. "Very well." Voldemort watches, disbelieving his good fortune, as they turn and walk out the door.

Just as he's about to vanish around the doorjamb, Harry looks back and grins at Voldemort. "We'll see you in an hour, Tommy boy. Stupefy!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Harry, that was a delightful lunch, thank you."

"You're welcome, Hermione. Do you think the potion has worked?"

"Let's find out." Hermione opens the door and immediately bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

"Hermione? What is it?" Harry attempts to push past her to see what's causing her hysterics.

"Oh, Harry…the p…potion must…have been f…faulty," she manages to gasp out. "I d…didn't go…to D…Diagon Alley, as…I didn't w…want to be r…recog…nized."

Harry finally manages to get around Hermione, and promptly bursts into laughter as well. "OH…'Mione…he'll b…be f…furious!"

Lying on the bed was Voldemort, with a full head of hair. Curly, ice blond hair. Harry, desperate to humiliate Voldemort, quickly wakes the ex-Dark Lord and hands him a conjured mirror.

Voldemort is silent for exactly ten seconds as his eyes bulge and his face turns red, before he lets out an ear shattering, and admittedly, rather girly, scream. "!"


	8. Chapter 8

Once Voldemort calms down, Harry steps back for a good look at him. It's odd seeing the most feared dark wizard ever with shoulder length, curly blond hair. Still… "Hermione, I think something is missing."

"What's that, Harry?" Voldemort watches with wide, fearful eyes as Harry whispers something to Hermione, causing her eyes to light up with glee, and a lighthearted laughter to escape her. "I agree, it's brilliant!"

They don't even give him a chance to cooperate this time. "Stupefy!"

Some time later, Voldemort slowly comes to, recognizing the signs of having been enervated. "What did you do to me, Potter?"

"We helped make you look a bit more human. I think you're ready to join the Muggle world now, Tommy. Sadly, the eyes, the deathly pale skin, and your almost complete lack of lips will have to stay."

"Let me see what you did to me, Potter."

"Do you think we should, 'Mione? Or should it be a surprise?"

"I think he should know what he looks like, Harry, and we'll need to take his photograph for the official documents. It's a good thing the Gringotts goblins were so helpful."

"Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle is well established in the world. You didn't go to college, Tom, so that will hurt you, but I'm sure you'll be able to survive."

Harry conjures a mirror and hands it to Voldemort, who stares at his reflection in horror. He now has a thin mustache and goatee, both ice blond. How is he EVER to inspire fear looking like this? He looks rather like an idiot. Perhaps he can shave the hair. Yes, that will work.

"We're going to Apparate you to your new house. The bills are paid for two months. That should be plenty of time to find work."

As Voldemort processes this, Harry and Hermione each take one of his arms, pulling him to his feet. He realizes he's dressed in a nondescript beige jumper and light blue, baggy jeans. Muggle clothing. UGLY Muggle clothing.

With the uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a tight tube, Potter and his Mudblood friend transport him to a very run-down home. "You expect me, the greatest wizard who ever lived, to inhabit this dump?"

"Nope, we expect you, a failed dark lord, a wizard who was defeated seven times by a wizard 54 years your junior, to reside in a home befitting your status. We've left some basic information for you on the table. Have a nice life, Tommy."


	9. Chapter 9

It takes Voldemort nearly ten minutes to gather his wits after the two teenagers leave. He sits at the table staring blankly at the wall before him. He can't believe he is expected to live in such a hovel. His eyes slowly gain focus as he takes in the room about him.

The table and single chair upon which he sits is situated between a miniscule kitchen that looks as though it can barely accommodate a single person and a small room that is apparently a cross between sitting room and bedroom. There is a small cot bed and a raggedy armchair, both positioned around a door. Curiosity getting the best of him, Voldemort rises and opens the door. It leads to a dingy washroom with a rusty commode and a tiny, dirty shower stall.

Exiting the washroom, he examines the kitchen, finding tinned food in some of the cupboards. There appears to be enough to last him a week. Rudimentary kitchen utensils are strewn throughout various drawers.

Turning, he takes not of the single window above the bed, the second door which presumably leads outside, and the small set of drawers which he finds hold two changes of clothing.

His new existence is so far beneath what he feels to be considered simply adequate, he does not know precisely how to act. There is no fireplace, so he cannot use the Floo. He must admit, however, that it is doubtful he'd be able to have a Muggle fireplace connected to the Floo Network, so perhaps it is of no matter.

Clearly his first step is to visit Diagon Alley to retrieve his money from Gringotts. At the moment he cannot Apparate, but that can be easily remedied by performing the same ritual that was used on him. Surely one of his faithful Death Eaters can capture a skilled witch or wizard so he may absorb their magic. However, in order to do this, he must get to Diagon Alley.

Clearly, magical means of transport are out of the question. He cannot even summon the Knight Bus without a wand. No matter, surely there is some form of Muggle transportation he can use to get him to… to…

His eyes widen as he realized he cannot recall where the entrance to Diagon Alley is. Further consideration reveals he cannot recall how to enter the Alley, either. Perhaps Hogsmeade, then. Gringotts has a branch there. Surely it is not so difficult to travel to… to…

"POTTER!"


	10. Chapter 10

Voldemort lay on the cot within his cell. He's breathing heavily, almost completely exhausted. His red eyes are both open, staring blankly at the ceiling. He has all the appearance of a broken man. Appearances, however, are deceiving. Voldemort's mind is as active as ever, carefully processing the events of the past few hours.

Once he discovered he could no longer recall the location of any major magical location, he went into a rage. He stomped around the miniscule flat he is forced to consider his current abode, throwing things, and trying to perform spells, as, in his anger, he had completely forgotten that he no longer had the capacity to perform magic.

He blinks, remembering the nothingness he felt during his all-consuming rage. Oh, he felt loathing, rage, and ever-increasing desire to rip Potter to shreds, but his magic was completely gone. He did not feel a flare of magic. He did not feel more in tune with his aura. It was gone.

The Muggles apparently grew fearful as his anger increased and he began cursing the Potter brat, threatening to rip him limb from limb. One of them evidently contacted the police, as his door was suddenly kicked open and five men swarmed in.

Being, as he was, past reason by then, he attempted to curse the men, causing them to use what he later found out is a "stun gun". He had no idea that Muggles had such weapons. He was unable to move voluntarily as he twitched with pain. Was that what he had done to countless people throughout the years? Was that what the Cruciatus curse felt like?

The men waited until he stopped twitching, then secured his hands behind his back, and carried him out to their vehicle. Apparently they believed his eyes were signs that he was intoxicated. The Muggles actually _laughed _at what they called his idiocy.

He railed at them. Cursing them with every fiber of his being, wanting nothing more than to see them writhing under the force of his wand. However, the men merely ignored him until they reached the "station" as they called it.

He was "processed". His photograph was taken, ink markings of his fingers were taken, and, of all the weird things to request, a urine sample was demanded. He was then thrown into this uncomfortable cell, where he was able to intimidate the only other occupant into giving up the cot.

And now, here he lay, trying to process how life had gone so horribly wrong. He was the most powerful wizard to ever roam the Earth, and now he is held in a Muggle jail. Oh, the humanity!


	11. Chapter 11

The police officer returns and unlocks the gate to the holding cell. "Riddle!"

Unwillingly, Voldemort looks up, desiring to avoid being tasered again. "Yes?"

The police officer jerks his head, indicating to Voldemort to exit the cell. "You've been bailed out, Riddle."

Voldemort stands and walks to the cell gate. "Excuse me?" It takes effort to be polite to the Muggle, but the pain of the Taser is still relatively fresh in his mind.

"You've been bailed out by an anonymous donation. You're free to go." Voldemort follows the police officer out of the cell area to the front of the station. "If your tests come back negative, there will be no further action taken. If you are proven to have been intoxicated, you will receive a notice as to the next step to be taken."

It takes Voldemort nearly three hours to get home. By habit, he'd attempted to Apparate, only to be forcefully reminded he is now, essentially, a Squib. He absolutely refused to think of himself as a Muggle.

Now at home, he stares at the mess left by his being arrested. It takes him ages to right the furniture and collect the scattered pages of information left by Potter and the mudblood. He struggles to keep his temper under control, as he was doing servants' work, the work of an elf! But he does not wish to be arrested a second time.

He stares at the stack of papers in his hand, his mind waging war with itself as whether he should read through it. With a sigh, he sits on the cot bed and begins to read. Knowledge is, after all, power.

Several hours later, he has made it through the information which brings him up to date on the Muggle world: history, employment, technology, and society. The Muggle world, unlike the wizarding world, is completely run by money. EVERYTHING must be purchased, even food. Potter proved him with some money. 200 pounds. Surely that would be plenty to sustain him for a while, especially as he already has food.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sadly, the site I switched to had to shut down. *sigh* so I'm back here. At least the deletions seem to have settled down.**

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><p>Voldemort sits at the tiny table with his head in his hands. He's attempting to process all of the information he's finished reading. As he attempts to categorize it all in his mind, he recalls something the Potter brat said to him.<p>

"You didn't go to college, Tom, so that will hurt you, but I'm sure you'll be able to survive."

Voldemort thinks back to his childhood. He doesn't remember college being necessary. Not one of the older children at the orphanage had any plans to go to college. Clearly Potter is just trying to confuse him.

Then again, he does have£ 200. Does he really even need to work? £200 should get him through several months. He can remember buying a burger and fries for £1 when he was a child. He remembers seeing a statement relating to this little hovel he must now call home when he lost his composure earlier. Perhaps it will list the cost of this ridiculous place, and he can judge how long his money will last him.

It takes him nearly an hour, but he finally locates the statement behind the dresser. He reads it with growing dread. His utilities alone are £30. His monthly "rent" is £600. He only has £200! The money won't even last him one month!

As he processes this thought, his stomach rumbles in hunger. This is new for him. He hasn't needed to eat in years. By instinct, he calls for a house elf.

"Mipsy!" Nothing happens. "Mipsy! MIPSY!"

Voldemort stares at the small kitchen. Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard to ever walk the earth, is going to have to cook for himself.


End file.
